Every night I am sane
by Sanaryelle
Summary: In the Silver Chair, Rilian tells the three heroes how one night he broke free of his bonds. Here's my take on that little scene.


_AN: This is just a little idea I'd been dabbling around with. I'd always sort of wondered about the time Rilian got free of the silver chair – here's my take on it._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, Rilian, the witch, or any recognizable character and place in this story… although I'd dearly love to!_

Rilian shook his head, clearing it of dark memories of his capture, of being dragged down into blackness, and all the dark days since then. How long had it been? A week? A year? There had been a time when he could remember all that happened to him, but now memories of tortuous nights marched endlessly back so that he scarcely knew when they had begun.

He opened his eyes, and glanced about the richly tapestried room. The Queen stood by the door, giving whispered instructions to six of her Earthmen. As she spoke, Rilian tried to shut out the honeyed poison of her voice, and struggled against his bonds. He could feel the vile tainted power of the silver chair flowing from the cold metal into his skin, making him weakened, so that seated in it he was nearly helpless.

Rilian kept his eyes on the Queen as he fought to escape. Her face was as lovely as ever, and it abhorred him that a creature so beautiful could hold a dark soul like hers. He knew in his heart that this Queen meant him ill, yet his mother had taught him to treat all women honourably.

His mother. Her lineage was of the stars, and her beauty far outshone the Queen's, in his memory. It was a different kind of beauty, for she had always been loving and gentle. He remembered being enfolded in her soft arms when he had hurt himself during play, burying his face in her fragrant blue gown. As a young boy he had loved to watch his mother comb out her long, golden hair by the fireside until it shone like liquid sunlight.

With memory of his mother came other things of his life before – games of hide-and-seek among the sun-warmed gardens of Cair Paravel; sitting on his father's shoulders as the king strode over the spray-soaked deck of a ship; riding his horse in the evening through vast meadows while listening to the haunting Dryads' song; lying on his stomach beside a little green pool, gazing at the upside-down trees that stretched towards a blue, blue sky.

But as the nights went on, Rilian was finding it harder to remember these things. Sometimes he could not even remember his mother's face, and that frightened him most of all. It was this oppressive darkness, and the weight of the Queen's hold on his mind, and the venomous power of the enchanted chair. They were eating away at his memory, and his sanity…

The Queen saw that he was awake, and glided over, green skirts rustling. "How now, my Prince?" she purred. "Awake already?"

"Release me, Madam", Rilian said with forced courtesy.

The woman laughed, and a sweeter laugh he had never heard. "Release you?" she repeated incredulously. "Are you a prisoner?"

Rilian tried not to grind his teeth; he had never been rude to a lady. "I am here against my will", he answered. "If it please your Ladyship, I wish to return to Narnia." As he spoke these words, something stirred in the back of his mind, memories of similar conversations with the Queen, dizzying conversations that bewildered his mind, conversations that he had always lost once the hour of his sanity was over.

The Queen drifted closer, and the prince could faintly smell her perfume which fell like a thick mist over his senses. She laughed again. "What a pretty name! Narnia, you say? What place is this?"

"You know very well what place it is!" Rilian snapped, finally losing his temper. The Queen rustled her skirts and the perfume wafted over him again. He fought down his rising dizziness, and valiantly carried on. "Narnia is my home, the land from which you led my by trickery to this dark maggot-hole."

"I know of no Narnia." She turned dismissively, and glanced over her shoulder. "You are raving", she said coolly, before crossing to the hearth with light steps.

Rilian bent his head and wept tears of helplessness. Memories of countless nights spent in this chair flickered through his brain. He could remember reasoning with the Queen, pleading with her, arguing with her, even shouting at her, but her reactions never varied. Always she expressed wide-eyed innocence at his behaviour and concern for his supposed mind-sickness, and it was wearing him down. While he vainly struggled to defend the things he knew to be true, here under the earth he could almost believe that they were really mad fantasies. He knew that he did not have much time, that in less than one hour he would be the Queen's fool again, and he felt the hope within him fade and all but go out. He must have been the witch's slave for a number of years now – how long could he keep fighting her?

But as he stared at the ground, he saw a most peculiar thing. The pattern on the rug through his tears seemed to swirl and form the shape of a lion's head. But this lion looked infinitely more wise, more terrible, and more gentle all at once than any talking lion Rilian had seen in Narnia. The lion's great red mouth opened, and a wonderful golden voice said, "Courage, my son." Those words were like large drops of something very warm that landed in Rilian's heart and spread through his body so that he felt his strength return. With a huge effort, he broke free of his bonds, and lunged for his sword.

The Queen spun around as he raised the blade to strike. Quicker than his eye could follow, she threw herself before him, blocking his view of the chair. "Prince!" she cried, "You are not well! Put down your sword at once."

"Stand aside, Madam", he warned. "I will not harm you, but such an evil thing as this enchanted chair must needs be destroyed."

"Evil?" the woman laughed, swishing her skirts. The intoxicating perfume came off her in dizzying waves. "My lord Prince, that chair is meant to help you."

"Save your poisonous words", Rilian replied coldly, moving forward.

The Queen caught his arm in a tight grip, keeping her body between his and the chair. "You would not harm me?" she smiled.

"Nay, Lady", he said, trying to look away from her bewitching eyes.

"Then put down your sword", she cooed. Her hand brushed his cheek, and he jerked his head away. Her smile widened, although her eyes remained hard, and she next spoke in a slow, sweet voice that made his eyelids droop. "My dear Prince, you are sick. Sit down in your chair and let me take care of you."

Rilian had not noticed his sword-arm lowering, and barely blinked when his weapon clattered to the floor, having fallen from nerveless fingers. The Queen pressed him down into the chair, and waved a hand, causing snake-like ropes to bind him in place once more. Instantly, Rilian's eyes snapped wide open, clearing of all trace of dimness.

The Queen bent close to him. "Do not struggle", she chided. "Your madness will be over in moments. We cannot allow that to happen again, can we? You might hurt yourself, my lord Prince."

Rilian fixed the Queen with a defiant stare. "Believe me, Madam", he replied, "I have every intention of allowing that to happen again. And when it does happen, beware! For I have the strength of Aslan behind me so long as my heart remains free from thy sorcery."

The Queen's expression darkened so that for a moment Rilian was quite afraid of her. She pulled back her hand and struck him, hard, across the face. "Never", she hissed, "Never mention that name again. Put it from your mind, I order you!"

"Your powers cannot make me forget him", he shot back. "I may be your witless puppet for most of the day, but in this one hour I know Aslan, and I know myself. And I will fight you every instant that I am myself and sane."

Rilian blinked – his vision was becoming clouded once more. He vainly battled against the fog that was blanketing his mind, but it was of no use. His head slumped forward onto his chest.

The Queen smiled her deadly smile, and watched the Prince in silence. For now, her revenge on Narnia did not require absolute devotion; her enchantments were enough. The Prince was not yet completely hers, but in time he would be. Her smile widened, and she waited for him to awake. How amusing this game was turning out to be!

_So, what did you think? If you took the time to read it, I'd love to hear from you. It's easy – just click the little blue button in the bottom-left of this screen! Aside from making me happy (or sad, depending on what you thought), it will also assure me that I'm not the only person who read this._


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